Fighting Fire
by world-of-magik
Summary: This is a spin off of "Catching Fire" by Suzanne Collins. It takes place after the 74th Hunger Games and begins with the reading of the card for the Third Quarter Quell. It involves many of the past/future characters from the trilogy.
1. Complications

PLEASE READ THIS PART:

This story is a spin off of_ The Hunger Games _by Suzanne Collins. It is NOT free of spoilers. It begins with the announcement of the third Quarter Quell. The 74th Hunger Games had taken place, with Peeta and Katniss coming out as victors. The Victory Tour, along with their wedding announcement, has taken place. Katniss has found out about the uprising in District 8, has seen her best friend Gale whipped beyond the point of consciousness, has met Bonnie and Twill of Distrct 8, has broken her foot re-entering District 12 and has done a fashion shoot of her wedding dresses that was shown on national television. This first piece in bold is directly from** Suzanne Collins'** book _Catching Fire_. This is to refresh memories before changing the circumstances and therefore continuation of this book. **All credit for the piece in bold goes to her,**as it should.

**I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"**

** "What will they do?" asks Prim. "It isn't for months yet."**

** We turn to our mother, whose expression is solemn and distant, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the reading of the card."**

** The anthem plays, and my throat tightens with revulsion as President Snow takes the stage. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.**

** These words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several districts are rebelling right now.**

** President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."**

** I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbors than have your name drawn from the reaping ball.**

** "On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."**

** I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won. . . .**

** "I had a friend who went that year," says my mother quietly. "Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweetshop. They gave me her songbird after. A canary."**

** Prim and I exchange a look. It's the first we've ever heard of Maysilee Donner. Maybe because my mother knew we would want to know how she died.**

** "And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that **it was adults who led the rebellion, the reaping pool will consist of names of those aged eighteen and older. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The seal is back and the anthem plays, the screen goes black as someone shuts it off.

There's silence throughout our home. Prim remains seated, as does my mother. The only thing moving is Buttercup whose slinking out the back door to who knows where. My mind begins to race. Who will it be? Which adults will be sent to the Games this year? If it's my mother...

I look up at her suddenly. The frail woman who has had to cope with losing her husband, who has had to watch her daughter go through these Games, who was not even strong enough to take care of her own family during a crisis. I've always thought that she was weak, but now it takes on a new meaning. As much as I despise her for leaving Prim and I at the worst possible time, I have to admit I don't want her to die. She's an excellent healer and she's a lovely cook, but if she is chosen I don't have much hope for her to make it through.

There are plenty of adults in District 12. The likelihood of her being chosen is slim, but the possibility still does exist. I'm a victor though, does that count for anything? Can the parents of victors be chosen? I already know the answer: yes. My being a victor gives my family no special advantage in this year's reaping. The same is true if I were to die at this very moment. My family would be expected to pack their belongings and head back to our old home in the Seam. My mother could still be chosen.

None of us wants to discuss the infinite possibilities or the ones closest to our hearts, so my mother shifts from the living room to the kitchen and begins to prepare our dinner. I look over at Prim who remains nestled on the couch, seemingly lost in thought. I need something to do, so I offer to invite Peeta over for dinner and before anyone can respond, I've gone out through the front door.

I've only been inside Peeta's home in Victor's Village twice. He's been coming to my home to work on the book and since he lives alone, he tends to come to our home on more occasions than I go to his. All the houses look the same though, so it's not like it actually matters. I cross the street and knock on the front door. He opens it almost immediately and is dressed to go out into the cold weather.

"Oh," he says with a tone of surprise, "Hi Katniss."

"Hi Peeta," I say, "were you about to go somewhere?"

"Well, yes," he says, "I was going to visit with my parents after the news that was just announced."

"Oh, right," I say, "well, I'll let you go then."

"Did you need me for something?" he asks with a look of concern crossing his face.

"No, no," I say, "I was just coming to invite you for dinner, but your family is more important, I shouldn't hold you up."

"I would love to come another time," he says. I nod, he smiles, I leave. It's an interesting relationship we've assumed over the past few months. Completely civil of course, but sometimes kinder than others. I wish he wasn't going to visit his parents, but I understand. I just thought it might be good to have someone break up the tension that will surely block out any hope of happiness during our dinner tonight.

With every glance at my mother I find some new imperfection, a weakness, a fault, a reason that, if chosen for the Games, she will not survive. Halfway through eating, Prim speaks up.

"Those dresses were pretty on you, Katniss," she says. I had forgotten all about the wedding dress photos. They were also on television tonight, and Prim at least thinks they deserve a bit of attention.

"Thank you, Prim," I say. _Thank you for the compliment; thank you for distracting me; thank you for being a perfect little sister._

"Yes," my mother says, "I especially liked the satin one with the beaded neck." There we go, off on a happy topic of discussion. Leave it to Prim to think of a way to keep us all in good spirits. We continue talking about the dresses and the voting for the duration of our dinner, and when dinner is finished we go to our separate rooms for bed. Only, I can't possibly sleep now that I'm alone with my thoughts.

I try to distract myself from my mother by thinking about others that could be chosen. However, the next person I think of only intensifies the pain and worry I feel. Gale. He's eighteen now, so technically he shouldn't even be part of the reaping this year, but with the new spark of interest added to this year's games, he's just as likely as the rest to be chosen.

But then, a sudden sense of warmth runs through my veins. For once, he's just as likely as the rest. There's no tesserae affecting his odds, because each adult's name is only going to be in there once. Gale only has one slip of paper to worry about. His forty two slips from last year mean absolutely nothing, and for some reason this comforts me. _May the odds be ever in your favor_, Gale. But then I think of Hazelle and the possibility of her being chosen... my resolve crumbles and I am left worrying about every adult in District 12 that has children.

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you think. I'll try to have Chapter Two up soon.**


	2. Mentors

Over the next few weeks I continue to spend time with Peeta. We agree that although we are victors, our families are just as likely as anyone else to enter the arena. He has both his mother and father to worry about as well as an older brother, while fortunately, I only have my mother. Peeta and I continue to work on the plant book and avoid the subject of this year's Games as much as possible. One day though, we realize it's approaching quickly and the subject is mentioned.

"Katniss," says Peeta as his hand moves across one of the pages.

"Yes?" I say softly.

"We're going to get through this," he says. I look up to his face and his eyes connect with mine.

"Of course we are," I say, "but twenty three people won't."

"I wonder what it will be like, to watch adults rather than kids," he says as he turns back to the current drawing. "Just the same, they will still be people, and they will still be at the mercy of the Capitol."

"Peeta," I say, "please, let's not talk about this. I hate imagining the possibilities." He nods in agreement and continues to work in silence. I watch his hands move as I always do, but my mind is beginning to crawl with worry. The reaping is two weeks away and I haven't seen Gale since before the Quarter Quell announcement. He spends every day down in the mines, working because he must. Even with Hazelle cleaning for Haymitch, and Gale working in the mines, they find it difficult to support their family of five. I've offered some of my winnings to them, but Gale refuses. "That's your money," he says, "you keep it."

"I need to see him," I accidently say aloud at present.

"Who?" Peeta says looking up. I think, who else would I need to see at the moment?

"Haymitch," I say.

"And why do you need to see him?"

"Well, I meant to ask him a little while ago, but I think we should ask him a bit more about mentoring," I lie quickly. Talking more about the Games is the last thing I want to do, but I don't want to admit that I was actually thinking about Gale, so I put on a brave face when Peeta consents to go with me.

We cross over to Haymitch's place and let ourselves in. We're accustomed to doing that by now. With all the times that he's either sleeping or passed out, we've had to give up on our manners, something Effie Trinket would frown at. I follow Peeta down the hallway into the kitchen where we find Haymitch with his head resting on the kitchen table, a bottle of white liquor in one hand, a knife in the other.

"Haymitch," says Peeta tentatively. "Haymitch, we need to talk to you." No response. I go over to the sink to fill a bucket with water.

"Haymitch," I hear Peeta say, "Katniss is going to pour water on your head if you don't come around." I hear a quiet murmur followed by a louder groan.

"Don't," he manages to croak out. I turn around to see him lifting his head off the table slightly. His eyes flicker open and closed again. "What do you want with me now?" I exchange a look with Peeta and, as usual, he speaks for both of us.

"We want to talk to you about mentoring," he says, "we know it's going to be difficult, so we want to be as helpful as possible for the Games that are coming up." I can tell by the way Haymitch's face contorts that he wants to talk about this just as much as I do. After some prodding, however, he agrees that it's a good idea. I heat up some bread and tea for him and we begin our discussion.

We go through how to most effectively help two tributes between the three of us. We decide that most likely Peeta and I will each take on a tribute and Haymitch will circulate between us guiding both of us through the process. Despite the knot in my stomach I remain focused as we discuss the many possibilities of tributes. There are young men and women barely past the normal reaping age, old men and women in poor health, and middle aged men and women with children. No matter how we view it, our prospects don't look good. Peeta and Haymitch agree that it would be best to have someone in the younger age range, because they'll most likely be in the best health, with the most resourcefulness and the least to lose at home. I don't mention Gale; they don't either.

Haymitch runs us through the process of acquiring sponsors, but since we don't know our tributes yet we can't possibly know what angle we'll be working off of. Will we be promoting the strength of a young man, or the wisdom of an old woman? Whatever the circumstances, it is our job as mentors to promote our tributes in the best way possible, to help them as much as we can. I finally feel the full weight of our job upon my shoulders. In just two weeks I, along with Peeta and Haymitch, will be responsible for two lives, and we will only be able to save one.

**Thanks for reading, kinda short, but the next chapter is almost done, so it might be up before a full week goes by. Please review because feedback is super duper helpful!**


	3. Reaping

Two weeks later I wake up in my home and know that the day I've been dreading has finally arrived. The sky is overcast, but the air is warm and humid. District 12 is caught in a dreary looking shadow. I can't help but think how perfectly the weather matches my heart today. My family prepares for the reaping, but it's not Prim whose being donned with beautiful clothing; it's my mother. We help her dress nicely and pull her hair back to make her look younger. I'm not sure if it makes any difference, but I smile and tell her how pretty she looks.

Prim suggests I dress up too.

"You will be on camera, you know," she says, "might as well look decent." I roll my eyes, but I know she's right, so I put on a nice dress as well and have my mother braid my hair down the back. When it's time, we make our way to the Justice Building where the reaping will take place. We pass all of the empty Victor's Village homes in silence. I guess that Peeta and Haymitch have already gone and merely glance as we pass their homes. When we arrive the square is already crowded with people. Thankfully they block my view of the stocks that are dried with the blood of the past few months. Looking at them only brings back unpleasant memories of my best friend Gale being whipped by the new head peacekeeper, Thread.

As soon as we arrive I am whisked away from my family to take my place on stage. I try to tell my mother and Prim that all will be okay, but I choke on my words and they come out in barely a whisper. I sit between Haymitch and Peeta, accompanied by Effie on Peeta's left and Mayor Undersee on Haymitch's right.

I look out into the sea of faces, not children this year, but adults. I see parents and grandparents alike waiting out between the ropes. They're waiting for that moment, the moment when they will either be filled with fear or relief. As my eyes sweep past the younger adults section, my breath catches. My best friend Gale and I make eye contact and it's all I can do to keep my face composed.

He looks brave and strong as always, but his anger and fear are hiding just under the surface. I want to comfort him, but I can't. I struggle to find some way to make everything okay, but I know it's impossible. The defeat must show on my face because there's a glint in his eyes before he lowers his gaze to smile. He looks back at me and his expression of mixed anger and fear has returned. That momentary smile was satisfying, but I'm still struggling so I have to look away, I can't look at his face anymore. I'm saved from finding something else to focus on because Effie Trinket rises and takes her place at the microphone to begin.

"Welcome, welcome," she says in that all too familiar tone. "This year we celebrate the 75th year of the Hunger Games, which as you know is our third Quarter Quell. What an exciting year!" She pauses to let her joyful words sink in. It's apparent to me that nobody in the crowd shares her joy. "Well," she says, "let's begin with the women." She walks over to the glass ball containing hundreds of names, every woman aged eighteen and over that resides in District 12. All have equal odds. She takes a slip and returns to the microphone.

"Saenia Crawford," she reads. I let out a breath, but only for a second. Saenia Crawford, known by the citizens of District 12 as Greasy Sae. There's a small space of time in which no one moves, and then suddenly Greasy Sae with her aged face and gray hair is moving forward through the crowd. I am relieved that my mother is safe, but I feel compassion for Greasy Sae. The amount of times I have spent sitting on her counter or trading with her for food are innumerable. However, with a glance at her face she seems almost complacent with the turn of events. How odd.

"Congratulations to our female tribute, Saenia Crawford," Effie says. The whole of District 12 is genuinely surprised when Greasy Sae smiles at the sound of her name. She leans over to Effie and whispers something inaudible to the rest of us. There's a pause in which Effie looks flabbergasted, but then she speaks.

"I've been corrected, to all of you, this is Greasy Sae and she would like her name to remain just that as the Games continue," Effie says. There are many quizzical looks about Greasy Sae's apparent satisfaction, but still there's no applause, no noise at all really, so Effie continues, "and now... for the men." She walks to the opposite side of the stage to the other glass ball, filled to the brim with small slips of paper. She reaches in, grabs one quickly, and returns to the microphone once again. Not Gale, please not Gale.

She clears her throat and utters the name, "Trenton Mellark." I am relieved only briefly, for Peeta's breath catches beside me. His face turns ashen as his father steps out of the crowd and begins walking toward the stage. I am reminded of last year when Mr. Mellark came to visit me and offered me cookies for the train ride. He was so kind and his kindness will always reside in my heart. I take Peeta's hand in mine because it's the only thing I can think of to make him feel better. Neither of Peeta's older brothers will volunteer to take Mr. Mellark's place, I am sure; family only goes so far when it comes to the Games. What I did last year was previously unheard of in District 12, but suddenly a voice rings out across the crowd saying exactly that, "I volunteer."

**Thanks for reading, I'm hoping that the next chapter will be really long to satisfy everyone. I tend to write short, stuffed chapters, so I'll be working on that for the next chapter. Plus, there's a lot that needs to happen next chapter anyway. Always feel free to leave comments (positive or negative) and thanks for reading!**


	4. Exasperation

I want to scream, but the sound catches in my throat. I want to cry, but my eyes can't seem to function properly. Now I'm clutching Peeta for myself, not for his own reassurance. I can barely watch as the volunteer steps out of the crowd. He walks forward, his face made of steel as he goes. He doesn't look back to his family nor does he like sideways to where I sit. He focuses only on Effie Trinket, in all her glamour, and makes his way up the steps to the very center of the stage. Effie congratulates him and asks for his name.

"Gale," he says, "Gale Hawthorne." I wince at the forcefulness with which he says his name. He's prepared to fight, but does he even stand a chance? Effie giggles and begins to babble on about having volunteers two years in a row.

"My, my," she says, "District 12 has got quite a bit of courage. Well, Gale, last year's volunteer is now a happy Victor, maybe the same will be said for you next year!" Now addressing both Gale and Greasy Sae she asks them to shake hands. They look at each other with mixed emotions. Noting last year's "undesirable turnout" according to President Snow they both understand that there is no hope for both of them to return alive. Effie, oblivious to their emotional struggles, turns to the crowd to conclude the ceremony. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She giggles again and takes both tributes by the arms to lead them into the Justice Building. I watch her dyed green hair as it disappears within and long to follow it presently.

Peeta squeezes my hand to get my attention. I must have begun to move because he shakes his head slightly when I look at him. True compassion shows on his face, but it is neither the time nor place for us to be voicing our concerns. We're still on stage, and possibly on television, but I can tell that Peeta has comforting words bubbling just below the surface. I'm lost in our inability to comfort each other and my inability to comfort Gale and his inability to comfort me. I barely hear Mayor Undersee as he addresses the crowd to control the amounting chaos that annually succeeds the reaping. He's ordering people this way and that way back to their homes where they will be safe from the Games for at least another year.

Haymitch nudges me in the side and tells me where to go. Peeta and I, hand in hand, make our way to the Justice Building doors followed closely by Haymitch. He directs us to the lounge room to await our tributes after they've said their farewells. I recall the only other time I've sat in this room. We were waiting to be announced to our District at the end of the Victory Tour this past winter. Effie had a fit because the stage wasn't prepared when we arrived and we had to wait here for an hour or so while everything was taken care of.

It was quite the production. Effie snapped her fingers at any person she found and ordered them to do this or do that. She pulled together the stage with all of its decorations and adornments within an hour and all the while made sure Peeta, Haymitch and I were comfortable and fed well. I may despise her ignorant Capitol attitude, but I have to admit she's good at what she does. I'm surprised they haven't transferred her to a better district yet. Fortunately, we only have to wait an hour this time as well and Effie is once again present to keep us in first rate shape. We sit mostly in silence while the festivities continue in rooms on the other side of the building.

"I'm sorry," Peeta whispers presently, "I'm so sorry." I'm still in shock from everything that's happened, but I know enough to realize it's not his fault. "Don't be Peeta, don't be," I say. It's not Peeta's fault that Gale volunteered for his father. I don't know what to do with myself. Haymitch already informed us that we can't visit with the tributes until we're on the train, so I'm restless. I turn at the slightest sound, hoping to see a glimpse of my best friend, but I am disappointed again and again. I need to see him; I need to find out why he volunteered and tell him that whatever reason he has is wrong. Eventually, Effie enters from a side door and announces that it's time for us to board the train. Gale and Greasy Sae will be following shortly, but separately from us.

I get up. I step outside. I board the train. I find a chair. I sit down. I wait. I go through the motions and let the anger I feel boil up inside me. I was concerned; I am concerned, but it's Gale's own damn fault he's here. He volunteered, why would he do that? To torture me, to make me yearn for his survival and forget about Peeta? I demand to know his intentions.

Peeta and Haymitch sit beside me in chairs and await the arrival of Gale and Greasy Sae. Effie exits the train to return to the tributes and escort them aboard. It's a long time before she returns, but she's unaccompanied as she enters through a compartment door coming from somewhere else on the train.

"Where's Gale?" I ask quickly. Effie looks taken aback.

"He's settling into his new room Katniss," she says. "He and Saenia will return shortly for dinner, I'll make sure of that. Now, as for you three, you've been given different compartment assignments from last year, mainly owing to the fact that Gale and Saenia require yours."

"Greasy Sae," I say interrupting her speech.

"Excuse me?" she says.

"Her name is Greasy Sae, that's what we call her," I say with agitation.

"Oh, right - well, yes of course," stammers Effie,"Anyway, Haymitch you'll be where you always are, but Katniss and Peeta they've attached a new cart since we have new mentors this year. However, you'll be sharing a compartment. I'm sure you don't mind what with the wedding and everything coming up." I'm about to protest, but Peeta grabs my hand tightly.

"Of course we don't mind," he says, "we would have ended up sharing anyhow." He looks into my face with admiration and content, but I'm sure my attempt to reflect his facial expression is poor. It's good enough to convince Effie though. She allows us to go take a look around the train upon Peeta's insistence, but tells us to be back in time for dinner. Controlling Effie, with her colored hair and her busy schedule, has no time to worry about best friends and death, only about promptness and manners, both of which are low priorities in my mind.

Once we've exited the lounge cart, Peeta turns to me.

"Katniss," he says, "I know you're upset and I know you want to hunt down Gale and yell at him, but he's your best friend so just keep that in mind." I'm about to respond, but he just turns away from me and leaves. I'm standing in the middle of a hallway trying to figure out my bearings. Peeta's words have knocked me off balance; his words knock anyone off balance. He has a gift with words. His voice was full of... sadness... like he actually cared that Gale was headed into the Games and that my yelling would hurt him further. Whatever, I don't have time to figure out Peeta's lovey-dovey mind games, I have a boy to find.

I figure out where I am and head to Peeta's old compartment where Gale now resides. I hesitate at the door debating whether to knock or just let myself in. I decide to knock, just to be polite as Effie would desire, and it's a few seconds before the door opens.

"Hey, Catnip," says Gale. His defiant, proud appearance and the calmness with which he speaks under the current circumstances are enough to bring my anger back to the surface.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking Gale?" I walk right towards him forcing him to back up and I slam the door behind me.

"Let me explain, Katniss," he says.

"Explain what?" I ask, "How your name wasn't drawn, but you volunteered anyway for someone you're NOT EVEN RELATED TO?" I can see fire in his eyes now. Good.

"I'll be related to him soon enough! With me being your cousin," (he uses frustrated quotation marks with his fingers to mock the words cousin), "and your stupid Capitol wedding with Peeta-"

"That's not fair!" I yell, "I was trying to keep people alive when I agreed to it; I was trying to keep YOU alive, since it was YOUR life President Snow threatened."

"Yeah? Well maybe I'm trying to keep people alive too!"

"It's completely different! You don't know Mr. Mellark like I know you! It's different," I say. Something crosses his face; it's almost as if he winces, almost like he took a direct blow to the stomach, but it's gone in a flash and I can't identify the emotion. His face returns to its state of calmness.

"Leave," he says quietly, "get out, and don't come back." I glare at him before spinning around and opening the door to leave. I hesitate.

**Thanks for reading! I know some of you didn't want Gale to end up in the games, but we still don't know exactly why he volunteered and how he will do in the games. We also don't know how Peeta will react now that he doesn't have to worry about his family and he can focus on Gale's addition to the group. I hope you liked it, and if not that's okay too - please feel free to criticize (constructively)**


	5. Noticing

The hesitation only lasts a second and then I'm gone. I walk purposefully through the many compartments of the train looking for my new room. It doesn't take long for me to find it and I enter willingly. I'm surprised to see clothes that are not mine laid across the bed, but then I hear the shower and remember that Peeta and I are sharing for real this time.

Of course, we've shared a bed in the past to help each other remain calm from nightmares, but this is different. That was just sleeping. Now we have to share a bathroom and a place to change and I can't lock myself in my room whenever I want to be alone. No, ever since the last Games I've never truly been alone; it seems someone is always watching me.

Presently, I hear the water shut off and I sit on the edge of the bed to undo my shoelaces. A few minutes later Peeta emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I startle him with my presence, but he recovers almost immediately.

"Hi Katniss," he says, "I didn't expect you to be here so quickly, I would have brought my clothes in with me to change."

"No, you can change out here, I'm going to take a shower," I say and walk into the bathroom before another word passes between us. It feels good to let my hair down and feel the water on my back. Today's been a mess and unfortunately it isn't over yet. Enduring a meal with Effie, Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, and Greasy Sae may in fact be one of the worst events of the day. I try to forget about it while I click buttons and scrub myself clean, but it's impossible not to think about.

Peeta and Gale; Gale and Peeta. Somehow I can't see them at a table together. Greasy Sae's presence will be comforting, that is until I start thinking about her probable fate. Not that I won't try to keep her safe, but when faced with the choice between Gale and Greasy Sae my heart yearns for Gale's survival. Although, with how he treated me today, I may just leave him to Peeta and Haymitch's attendance. And before I know it, I'm back to thinking about Gale and the stupidity he executed this morning. I exit the shower still infuriated, but cleaner, and wrap a towel around my body.

When I go back into our room Peeta is dressed and laying on the bed to rest. I pull open a drawer at random and find a red shirt and black pants, good enough for me. I redress in the bathroom before joining Peeta on the bed. We lay there in silence, resting our eyes after a long day. I wonder aloud how long we have until dinner and before Peeta can answer we hear a knock on the door and an, "Out, out, out! It's time for dinner, come along Peeta and Katniss."

We follow Effie to the dining cart where Greasy Sae and Haymitch are waiting. I see they both have started, but I don't care. Effie feels the need to "tsk" them for poor manners, but she's never gone hungry, so she doesn't know what a luxury this is for citizens of District 12. Greasy Sae is certainly enjoying the food, if nothing else. Although, out of the whole group, she's been the most well spirited throughout the afternoon.

I sit down next to Peeta and help myself to a plateful. Just as I'm beginning to eat Gale saunters in and sits at the head of the table across from Effie. I look past Peeta to Gale and our gaze holds just long enough for both of us to express our continued anger with one another. I turn to my plate and dig in without another glance his way. That smug bastard, volunteering without any worries, believing I'll do whatever it takes to keep him alive. _What if I can't, Gale, what then? _My eyes fog become foggy for a moment and I just stare at my blurry food waiting for the fog to leave, trying to regain control of my senses.

Effie, oblivious to any tension, announces that we'll be watching the twelve reapings after dinner. She's almost giddy with the prospect of seeing all of the new tributes. At least she's comfortable continuously talking to herself, since she's getting zero responses. I can't even look at her. My eyes are focused on the meal in front of me and my brain is focused on everything but. Peeta nudges me slightly. I look up at his face next to me.

"What?" I hiss.

"Are you okay?" he asks nervously.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" I snap.

"Katniss, your legs and arms are shaking like crazy, are you even cold?" I take notice of my arms and legs when he says this, but I can't seem to make it stop. Anger, fear, worry - all of these feelings contribute to my unnatural shaking. I can't satisfy Gale by showing weakness.

"Yeah," I say, "I guess I am a little cold. I'll go get a sweater."

"No, no dear," says Effie, "I'll send an avox to get it." She snaps her fingers and one of the figures standing around the compartment exits to find me a sweater. I stand up.

"No, I'll be right back, really," I say and I exit through the same door as the avox. She's a blond haired girl, probably just older than I am. I see her at the other end of the passage.

"Wait!" I call. "Wait!" She stops and turns back to face me, a look of confusion upon her face. "I can get my own sweater; I need the walk anyway." She shrugs as if to say 'alright' and walks back past me to the dining compartment. I head off to my room to grab a sweater even though I'm not chilly in the slightest. If anything I'm flushed with heat from the anxiety of the day. I grab a sweater from one of the drawers and turn back to leave my room, but a figure is blocking the doorway.

"Katniss," he says softly. I know he's trying to be sincere by using my real name, but I'm still confused about whether I should be angry at him or scared for his life. "Please just listen to me." I nod, but make no effort to go towards him or to invite him in.

"I can't really say - I mean, I don't really know... why I volunteered," says Gale. He takes a calm breath before launching into an explanation, "I saw Peeta's face and then I saw yours and I didn't know what I could do except volunteer. There was no forethought, it was just impulse. And I know you don't like it, but Katniss, please, don't be mad at me. After all you're not the one heading into the arena, I'll need my mentors to be focused and Greasy Sae will too." There's a moment of silence between us.

"I guess Peeta isn't the only one whose good with words," I say finally.

"Thanks for noticing," he responds quietly. And I know. I know how much he's hurting and how poorly I've treated him over the past year. Most of it was purely for survival, but he and I both know that I haven't been completely fair. _Thanks for noticing_. Gale's right, I've been friends with him for years and I've never once pointed out his ability with words. Well, that's good for the interview at least.

He comes to me and takes my right hand in his left, speaking to me only a few inches from my face. "Do you remember a year ago, the day you left for the games? When I had to come say good-bye to you? And they pulled me out of the room before I could finish what I wanted to say?" I nod.

_Of course I remember. I turned the phrase over and over in my head for three nights before the Games. As they pulled Gale out of the room he had said, "Katniss, remember I-" but that was all I got to hear. And I wished that they hadn't taken him away. Was it about Prim, or gathering, or working? Maybe it was a reminder that he was going to begin in the coal mines that year, or maybe that he was forever safe from the games. HA. Forever safe from the Games; no one is safe from the Games._

"Katniss," he says softly to regain my attention, "I was trying to tell you to remember how much I love you." He pauses, we're both silent for a moment. "And my feelings still apply now." I'm stunned. I mean, I knew from the moment I returned from the Games that I had hurt him and from the moment he kissed me that it was because he had feelings for me. But I had completely different ideas a year ago when he was torn from the room mid-sentence. And now, a year later, we're on opposite ends: Gale is the tribute, and I am the one who will watch him fight for his life. I am responsible for his fate.

"Gale," I say softly. The pain is evident in my voice, "you know I love you too." I'm hesitant to bring up Peeta and the obligations I have to uphold our relationship, the promise I made in order to keep us myself and my family safe from President Snow. But really, how safe are we?

"I wish it was enough," he says.

"What was enough?"

"For two people to just love each other, and for that to make everything okay. But in reality, it makes things worse," he says. The fire is coming back into his eyes, the anger I've seen in the woods so many times. I have to keep him calm, we're on a Capitol train now, I don't want him to say anything that could put him in even more danger than he's already in.

"Gale, I think we'd better get back to the others," I say. He looks down to me slowly.

"Yeah," he says, less vehemently, "yeah, you're right. They'll be wondering why it took me so long to use the restroom anyway."

"How many people in that room do you think actually believe you went to the restroom?" I ask feeling the corners of my mouth turn upward with giggles.

"Including Effie?" he asks. "One." I laugh aloud and we make our way back to the others. For a moment, it's as if the world has stopped spinning. It's just Gale and I joking with each other. No one's headed to their death. No one's being threatened by the President of Panem. There are just the two of us, laughing in perfect harmony.

**It's short, as seems to be my specialty, but it's getting harder at this point. I know where I want to go with this, but I'm struggling to get there (that's why it's a week late). I hope you don't hate it. BUT if you do, please say so, I will not be offended! Thanks for reading.**


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